


"Yourself"

by Songpai4Prez_JustEmotionalistic



Category: DA - Fandom, DAI - Fandom, Dragon Age, Dragon Age Inquisition - Fandom, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Mind Break, Other, Red Lyrium, Tranquil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:33:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22586422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Songpai4Prez_JustEmotionalistic/pseuds/Songpai4Prez_JustEmotionalistic
Summary: Done for a prompt I got on Tumblr lolol, "You aren't acting like yourself" for Mihra requested by God-Made-Me-Too-Powerful. From Varric's POV, Inquisitor Lavellan gets infected by red lyrium and cracks an egg.Word count: 1,727
Relationships: suggested Solavellan
Kudos: 2





	"Yourself"

It was the third day since the Inquisitor had not returned to Skyhold. The second since a barely alive scout crashed through the gates, clearly in hysterics, wailing about how the Inquisitor had been taken hostage to all who would take notice, anybody who would believe the enemy could even capture the Inquisitor. Which weren’t many people, really. 

The lad didn’t survive for much longer after his return. He collapsed in the main hall and was joined by his family at his deathbed. The poor kid. 

They didn’t even require to cut him open to tell that he had been poisoned with red lyrium. 

The inner circle had wasted a good part of that afternoon arguing over what to do. Solas had calmly excused himself at about two hours in. No one saw him again until noon the next day, where he re-joined the inner circle as they continued to argue. Again. 

That day was no different, of course. Mostly, at least. 

Again, they had all crowded around the war table. Again, Josephine and Leliana had attempted to lead calm, open discussions. Again, Cullen grew irritable and brought the volume up. Again, they quarrelled. 

Except, this time, something that even surprised Varric interrupted them. 

There was an abrupt shock wave, small enough to not send them flying, but powerful enough to get them all to shut up and turn towards the source. Solas, with his fist on the table, was scowling even deeper than Varric had considered possible of him. There was a whirling darkness in his eyes that screamed anger, resentment, impatience. 

And, despite this, he spoke coolly. Evenly. Clearly. 

“Do you sincerely believe this foolish bickering will settle anything?” He had demanded. The group had exchanged glances, and didn’t respond. “No? Then why proceed? Are you not aware-“ 

The commander tried to cut him off. There was another burst of energy, but this time it wasn’t felt physically. Instead, everyone cowered, bringing their hands up to hold their heads as if they were in pain. 

“I would _appreciate it, commander_ , if you would allow me to _speak_.” He continued, “Are you not aware that every minute we waste here, she is in the hands of our adversaries? Are you not concerned that with every day you think it wise to argue, she bridges the verge of death? Have any of you, in any of your quarrels, actually thought of her over yourselves?” He had said. 

No one could answer. 

“I see. Well. If none of you see it fit to act, then I shall do it myself.” 

And you know what? The egg head had a point. Varric just wished he didn’t have such a solid point that he later found himself sitting at the elf’s desk, combing through piles of notes while the elf paced behind him, hushed, tense and broody. 

He regretted it even more as they left the safety of Skyhold around midnight. He bound his coat tighter around himself and tucked his chin to his chest, trying to fight off the biting cold as they trudged through the snow. The damn elf was lucky it only went up to his shins. 

And somehow, he absolutely deplored it when they reached the destination. A small camp just barely holding in the terrible weather, not even an hour hike from Skyhold. They slowly wandered around the outside of the encampment, or he assumed they did, he wasn’t actually watching. From the way he was holding his head, he couldn’t see much other than a few fragments of red crystal at his feet. But it was eerily calm, no red templars running to attack the pair, just the silence of the snow falling onto the barren stone at their feet, and the sound of their breathing. Even Solas, who had been leading, had gone deathly silent, the tap of his feet on the stone coming to a halt. A muted clattering broke through the silence as Varric kicked at the crystals and rubbed his nose, it had gone numb from the chill. 

“Cat got your tongue, Chuckles?” Varric’s remarks left his mouth with a small puff of vapor, and he raised his gaze to Solas’ face. He was staring into the camp, Varric didn’t think he could’ve gotten any paler than what he normally was, the pallor of his face in this moment had proved him wrong. 

He slowly turned to see what, exactly, had caused the elf to look so alarmed. His eyes drifted over large chunks of red lyrium, dull, as if they had had the evil power sucked out of them. What he could only presume were blackened, splintered bones were scattered around the camp, outlined in powdery snow. His heart plunged. There, in the centre of it all, a singular form, slight and draped in rags, skin dark against the falling snow. 

He took a shaking, stuttered step towards her. Then another. And another, until he was close enough to see how she was perched on her knees, still as a sculpture, her body enclosed in a thin slate of ice and snow. He exhaled a sigh of relief as he saw she had no serious wounds, just a couple scrapes over her arms. She had her them folded around her chest, her nails were digging into her shoulders, breaking the skin. Dried blood caked the ends of her fingers and her arms. 

As he drew closer, a gleam of red caught his eye. His throat went dry. Little, red crystals were growing inside the cuts, tearing her skin, glowing with the same angry pulse under the ice as the red templar’s lyrium. 

“Oh, Snowflake...” 

He reached out for her, only to feel a phantom hand wrap around his torso and haul him back right as giant, spiking columns of ice exploded from the ground he was just standing on. 

There was a dreadful cracking noise, a shout of “Varric, get back!” from Solas as the ice that encased the Inquisitor shattered, and she dragged herself up. Through the ice, he stared in dread as the red lyrium started growing out of her arms, disgusted and craggy. Her hands flexed, as if she was feeling their existence for the first time, as if her body was one she hadn’t had before. He couldn’t move as he stared up at her, his mouth agape, his body shaking in a terrified fervour. 

She twisted, and she peered down at him. Her eyes were vacant, flaming crimson and stirring with a type of intensity he had never seen in them before. She gazed down at him, her face flat, gaze void of any memory of him that may have been there previously. There was a broken sob, choked out by fear. He couldn’t believe such a sound had come from him. He watched in mute horror as she raised her hand, a ball of multi coloured energy that seemed to absorb the light and the life from the surrounding area sparking in her fist, and she snickered, a low and guttural noise that he could never have imagined would come from her. 

The skin on her arms shifted and ripped around the crystals as she moved them, extending her raised arm and directing it at Varric, her lips curving into a hideous grin. The crystals seemed to flare with energy, pulsing brighter as green light blazed from the mark on her palm, writhing around her arm and reflecting on the crystals, feeding into the ball of power. His body finally found it time to move, and he desperately kicked his feet and arms at the stone, scrambling away. Her aim seemed to follow him. 

“P-please, Snowflake, you- you’re not acting like yourself! Look, it’s me, are you actually going to kill me?” 

Something flashed in her gaze, and the light faltered for a second, her other hand grappled at her extended arm and tugged it down, and she howled, fingernails raking down her forearm and more crystals sprouting up from the split skin. The light exploded from her fist, striking the ground just inches away from Varric’s feet, sending out a flaming shock wave. It ricocheted off of the luminous blue coat of magic that had flowed over his body just moments earlier. His instinctual cry matched hers as the wave collided with her legs, burning through the skin. He gagged as he saw the white of bone, but it was concealed almost immediately as large crystals began to break out of the bone and grow, spreading over the wounds like scabs. 

“Vhenan, please!” The way Solas’ voice cracked pulled Mihra’s attention to him, gaze wide with hysteria and face coated in and hair matted by dried blood that wasn’t hers. Something in her face softened. Varric dared to look away from her, if only for a second, to look at his partner in this endeavour. Solas’ face was a confused rush of emotions, his Adam’s apple bobbed as his lips quivered, struggling to take even breaths. 

“Mala suledin nadas,” He held out his hand, his fingers were quivering. If this was an act, it was a damn good one, “Ar elana ma ghilana.” 

Varric’s attention snapped back to her as she let out a shuddering breath, bordering on a growl. Her hands were flexing again, he could see her veins through her skin. Red lyrium continued to spread over her skin, growing smaller and smaller, an uncertain darkness swirling inside them, combatting their angry glowing. 

He heard Solas slowly pad up to them, hesitant. His hand reached for hers, intertwining their fingers. The glow of her mark began to dull, the rays of light that broke between their fingers slowly dissipating. She was shaking. Her right hand grasped at his shoulder. Her breath shuddered and guttural. 

She leaned into him, Varric didn’t fail to notice as she slid her hand down to his abdomen. 

“Chuckles-” 

Everything went red. A shard of ice visible coming from Solas’ lower back. He opened his mouth to say something, but what came out was a pitiful gurgle as blood dribbled from his lips. 

She stepped back, letting him fall as she turned back to face Varric. 

There was no longer nothing in her face. 

A sickening, burning rage had taken the place of the void that was there before. 

And it was directed straight at him.


End file.
